Iris West Does Not Twerk
by RaifandRosefan
Summary: It was Drunk Movie Night. Brownie batter was involved. And Joe. And Vodka. And fun was had by all.


But Barry _has_ seen her twerk.

In Joe's kitchen. On Drunk Movie Night. Two years ago. Iris had a spatula in her hand. Barry's fingers were sticky with butter. He had rubbed it all over Iris's nonstick glass baking pan. Her spatula was still coved in brownie batter.

They were dancing in the kitchen. Waiting for the brownies to bake. Lil John's "Shots" was blasting through the living room stereo. The world was already getting little hazy, spinning just so slightly.

Iris was pretending to be a rap diva. Rhyming into her spatula. Whipping her long hair back and forth.

"Wooo!' Barry shouted above the music. Swaying slightly. Bouncing awkwardly on the balls of his feet. Attempting to dance.

The room was warm. The air filled with the sweet, sweet, aroma of brownies mid-bake. Iris was free. She downed her shot, swaying wildly. The music and vodka coursing through her body, making her want – no, _need_ – to dance.

The chorus blared,

"~SHOTS! SHOT! SHOTSshotshotssho—"

"Everybody!" Barry screamed along. Buttered fingers glistening in the dim kitchen light. His hands in the air.

Iris was unselfconscious. She knew Barry was there. But her mind was on the music. He was her best friend. With him there were no judgments.

Iris pulled a chair out from the kitchen table. Set her foot on it. Captain Morgan style.

"SHOTS! SHOT! SHOTSSHOTSSHOTSSHOTS!"

Iris twerked.

He watched her. His face was already red from the alcohol, so he wasn't worried. It also took care of other things. The music was very powerful though. He couldn't just stand there. He couldn't just bounce anymore. The music told him to move.

Vaguely aware of Iris twerking so near him. Barry bent over. His buttery hands gripped the kitchen counter. He didn't care how he looked. He was in ecstasy.

Barry twerked.

Iris watched. Doubled over with laughter. Her foot slid off the chair as she fell to her knees. Barry's twerking near the sink looked like a cat trying to dislodge a fur ball caught in its throat. Thrilled by the sound of Iris's laughter. He threw his back into it. Twerking like he was working to pay the rent.

The song moved to the bridge. Iris rose to her feet. Spatula ready.

"If you ain't getting drunk, get the fu*k out the club!" She bellowed. One hand on the spatula. The other pouring another shots for them both.

"If you ain't getting drunk, get the fu*k out the club!" They screamed in unison.

Iris downed her shot. Still twerking, Barry reached for the closer shot with his still buttery fingers. The glass slipped, nearly falling. Vodka dripped from the counter to the floor.

Iris took the shot glass from Barry, slamming it down onto the counter. She grabbed the bottle instead.

"Pour it in my mouth like we're in Vegas!" He commanded. He crouched lower for Iris. But he refused to get out of his twerking position.

Iris spilled vodka more in his eyes and nose than his actual mouth. For Barry's part, his mouth was open wide; like these were gumdrops he was catching and not vodka. Silently, the kitchen door swung open.

In walked Joe.

Hands covering his ears, pained look on his face. His eyes landed on the two grownass adults in his kitchen. His very wet and slippery kitchen.

"What the hell are you doing?" He yelled. His brows knit together. Eyes wide as saucers. He looked at Iris. At Barry.

Iris blushed. She put the Smirnoff down on the counter. Angled her body to hide it from Joe. Barry didn't bother pretending he wasn't doing what Joe thought he was doing. Still bent over.

Joe moved toward them. His eyes not leaving Iris's. He stopped in front of her. He cleared his throat. Reached around her. Iris shifted slightly to the left to give him room. He lifted the large plastic bottle of Smirnoff.

Joe looked at the bottle. He looked at his daughter. At Barry.

He looked at them. They looked at him looking at them.

Joes stepped back. He unscrewed the bottle's cap. He placed the cap down next to the sink. Filled with plastic bowls, and cups, and whisks covered in brownie batter.

"How could you start Drunk Movie Night without me?" he yelled. Pointing an accusatory finger at both of them.

Joe lifted the bottle to his lips and took a giant sip. The oven timer went off. Joe lowered the bottle.

"Browniethh are finished," Barry slurred happily. Finger pointed wrongly at the garbage can, instead of the wall oven. He wasn't too concerned with accuracy or directions at the moment.

Iris beamed with excitement. "Yayyy!" she squealed. Hands clapping together like a six-year-old. "Just in timmmme!"

Iris slid her hands into a pair of oven mitts. Not nearly as inebriated as his - mostly responsible - kids, Joe helped Iris remove the brownies from the oven without hurting herself. Barry was content to watch them remove the tray without him. He would wait for his brownies to cool. From his spot. In the corner of the kitchen. On the floor.

The song continued through the speakers in Joe's living room.

"La da da da

La da da da da da

La da da da

La da da da da da—"

The End.

****************  
Author's Note: Yes, I know how the first paragraph sounds. Yes, that was intentional. No I do not write smut (mostly action/mystery/thrillers - no shade or hate tho. I hope you laughed. Also, it's been a while since I wrote anything at this site, even though I still read so many others' work. Maybe I'll get back to this... maybe I won't. But I hope you enjoyed this one shot.

What did you think of Barry's tweaking?


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